Run Forwards, Not Backwards
by Selene Illusinia
Summary: She can't run backwards, so she'll run forwards instead. Warning: brief mention of Fitz/Mack


**Written based on a twitter prompt/comment for tardisandjam . Part 2 is coming. Please be advised, I have never written biospecialist before. I apologize for any errors.  
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**- Illusinia**

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><p>For the first time since she'd left, Jemma deeply, deeply wished she hadn't quit S.H.I.E.L.D.. She was a biochemist, she could do anything if you gave her chemicals and biology. And she'd managed to find a job, establish something of a tentative life. It wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D., it wasn't exciting, but it was something decent.<p>

It was a life that was also currently going up in smoke.

Literally, her apartment was actually _on fire_. With her inside.

Covering her mouth, she tried not to breath in too much of the rapidly accumulating smoke as she stumbled to her feet. It was hard to say exactly what had happened. All she'd done was flip on the stove and suddenly everything was burning. Everything, including those adorable curtains she'd found in that little shop on the corner. Bloody hell, she'd _liked_ those curtains.

_Would you stop focusing on the curtains and try to find a way out! Your apartment is more than a little on fire!_

Grabbing a towel that was thankfully _not_ on fire, she shoved it under the tap and attempted to turn it on. A wet towel would filter out some of the carbon and other various things she most certainly did _not_ want to breath in. Except there was no water. Why was there no water? Had someone disconnected her water?

Panic began to set in. Had someone intentionally set her apartment on fire to kill her? It sounded completely paranoid, but, without the rest of the team, she was a sitting duck. She hadn't even considered that anyone would come after her; after all, she was just a scientist. What bother could she possibly be to anyone?

….well there was the whole undercover operation at Hydra. That might have something to do with it.

_Get out of your apartment first and worry about who did this later!_

Cursing her lack of wet towel, Jemma dropped to the floor and began to crawl through the burning room towards the front door. Get out of the apartment first, contact the team second. Skye had made it very clear she could call if there was any trouble. And this definitely qualified as trouble.

As soon as she hit the living room, however, she froze. Her laptop and phone. She needed those. They contained all of her research and her contacts for the team. What had she done with those when she came in? Right, coffee table. She could grab them now; everything was still in her bag.

She'd barely snagged the bag's strap when the sound of splintering wood and gunfire sent her to the floor. The bag crashed to the floor beside her as she half dove for cover behind the first thing she could find: the couch. Well, she wasn't getting her deposit back now for certain. At least she had her bag- she wouldn't want Hydra or whoever was shooting at her to gain access to her personal devices.

Without a second thought, Jemma turned towards the back wall of her still-burning apartment. There was a fire escape there; she could climb down or up the ladder, whichever way would let her escape. She wasn't an agent and didn't even have a gun. Running was her only option.

Popping up somewhat as soon as the gunfire stopped momentarily, Jemma scrambled for the window and practically threw it open (thankfully the landlord was lazy and had never fixed her window latch). She managed to crawl onto the escape just before the gunfire began again. It shattered the glass behind her, causing her to instinctively cover her head as she hurried towards the ladder down. She couldn't see anyone below, but that didn't mean she didn't have visitors waiting below. The roof was a dead-end though; she didn't have one of Fitz's nifty gadgets to help her get down.

Scurrying down the ladder, she tried to focus on moving as quickly as she could without falling. It was easier said than done, what with the metal being slick with rain. The ladders ended up being more like slides than actual ladders by the time she was two floors down. Her arse would definitely be sore come morning.

Shots echoed off the metal as she half ran, half fell down the side of the building. The ricocheting bullets rained down from above in a weirdly consistent way. It was almost as if they weren't even trying to aim, though maybe that was the case. Maybe whoever was after her couldn't shoot well. Not for the first time that day, she wished she'd taken the ICER that Coulson had offered her when she left.

The ladder was up when she hit the final platform and for a few heart-pounding seconds, she struggled to release it. The heavy fall of boots on metal was echoing from above now, increasing her anxiety and making her hands shake. She was a bloody scientist, not an agent! This wasn't supposed to be her life when she _left_ the agency.

A loud, metallic crash signaled the ladder's release from it's confinement as it rapidly slid towards the ground. Jemma nearly sobbed as soon as the ladder began to move, beginning her scramble downward as soon as it was free. She may or may not have fall off the ladder a few feet from the ground in her rush to escape, but it didn't matter. She was free of her burning apartment. There were actual options now.

Without bothering to check where her pursuers were, Jemma bolted for the mouth of the alley and burst out onto the street. She needed to get somewhere with other people; somewhere well-lit and crowded would offer her cover. It would be easy enough to disappear into a crowd and then find a place to hide until she could make a plan. That was exactly what she needed: a plan.

Turning right, she began running towards the main street three blocks down. If she could just make it to the main street, she could escape. Having a focus managed to help spur her on, even when bullets began flying again. This time much closer than before. She tried to ignore them though and focus on the street. Street, street, street. She needed to reach the street.

A hope that was shattered a second later when an unmarked van suddenly pulled straight into her path and blocked her escape. Curses flew through her head as she half fell over attempting to stop, something that happened half a second before the sliding door on the van flew open.

A masked man stuck his head out, gun raised in front of him. His eyes met Jemma's for half a second before she raised her gun. Jemma couldn't help it, she closed her eyes in anticipation of the incoming shot. At least she'd given them a run for their money.

Shots rang out, but there was no pain, just the sound of bullets flying over her head. It lasted for a second before a hand was on her arm, hauling her to her feet. Her eyes flew open almost as soon as the mystery man began pulling her up, one hand maneuvering her towards the open door while the other kept his gun raised towards where her pursuers had been coming from.

"Get in!" shouted her savior and she didn't even question it as she half dove for the open door. He was in seconds behind her, slamming the door shut and climbing into the front seat as soon as the door clicked. Jemma just remained on the floor in the back though, too out of breath or relieved to try to climb into the front. Whoever this man was, she owed him a great debt.

"Hang on," advised her savior before he poured on the gas. She felt the van jolt beneath her, the force nearly sending her sliding backwards.

As it was, she managed to brace her feet against the floor to keep from flying around. It wouldn't help with the way he was speeding up though; she needed something more secure. There was a strap above her head meant as an anchor hold for cargo and she didn't hesitate to grab onto it. Her other hand wrapped around her bag, hugging it to her body in an attempt to keep from being thrown around too badly.

For several long moments, she held her breath in anticipation of gun shots or some other evidence of pursuit. The guys after her, whoever they were, weren't likely to give up just like that. Not if they'd really turned off the water in her apartment and rigged an explosive device. And sure enough, she wasn't disappointed.

Gunshots struck the side of the car, ricocheting off the metal panels amid a hail of pings and sharp bangs. The noise was nearly overwhelming, but Jemma was careful not to release her hold on the strap. Rolling around in a van that was being shot at sounded like a really bad idea.

In the front, the man cursed and spun the wheel sharply, sending Jemma sliding sideways across the van. His speed increased as they hit another straight away, the engine revving in a way she didn't believe a van's engine was supposed to do. In fact, she was pretty sure vans didn't move this fast, period. So who was this man and where had he managed to find a clearly modified van?

The speeding chase felt as if it went on for ages. Every turn seemed sharp and the gunfire barely stopped for seconds at a time. Jemma could only guess the moments of silence were from the men reloading. Or those were moments when her unknown savior lost them.

"Here's the plan," stated the man from the front seat (she probably needed to get his name at some point when they weren't being chased by men with guns). "We're coming up on a cross-way. I'm going to cut us across that and then spin us around a corner, then a second corner and into an alley. When we get there, we're going to jump out and run. There's an open manhole 30 feet from that, beneath a piece of plywood. It's our target. Got it?"

"Um, yes?" tried Jemma uncertainly, her mind rapidly processing his instructions. An open manhole? That was unsanitary. Then again, it wasn't a poor hiding spot. "I need to run for the plywood that is covering a manhole."

"Yes," confirmed the man as he spun the wheel and nearly sent her flying across the van again with his erratic driving. "Get ready to run."

Nodding, Jemma braced herself for the second turn, which came on the heels of the first, and shifted so she could bolt as soon as they stopped. The seconds seemed to stretch on as she just tried to breath through the tension gathering in her chest. And she'd thought jumping out of a plane was bad. Or falling into the ocean in a pod. _Stop! You have survived worse than this. You will make it. You aren't alone right now, just do what the man says._

Taking a deep breath, Jemma listened as the breaks were suddenly applied in a rough fashion. The driver was already out of the seat before the van even stopped moving and Jemma scrambled to right herself and get to the van door. It was open before she even reached the other side and the man who'd saved her was pulling her from inside. He wasn't exactly gentle, but the situation didn't exactly warrant it.

Once she was free of the van, however, he barely paused before taking her hand and breaking into a run down the alley. Jemma struggled to get her feet beneath her as they bolted towards what she could only guess was the previously mentioned open manhole. It was pretty clear the man was reducing his speed for her benefit, despite the risks that carried. For what felt like the millionth time since this man saved her, Jemma felt grateful. Particularly that he'd taken the lead- she couldn't see their target anywhere. Seconds later, she saw why.

Her rescuer half skidded to a stop in the middle of the alley, glancing back before passing the gun to her. "If you see them, fire."

Without further explanation, he turned back to the middle of the alley and pulled up a piece of wood that looked like it had fallen over. In his defense, the piece of wood _was_ plywood- and it was laying across the alley right beside a leaning stack of pallets. Differentiating between a deliberately placed piece of plywood and a fallen part of a pallet was nearly impossible. Then again, that was likely the point.

Throwing the wood aside, the man took back his gun and offered Jemma his hand again. "Go down. I'm right behind you."

Taking a deep breath, Jemma took his hand and carefully slipped into the hole, stepping carefully down the rungs. She was about halfway down when an explosion from above rocked the ground. A scream tore from her throat as the sound broke through the claustrophobic space. Fear bolted down her spine for five seconds until she saw a pair of boots appear on the ladder above, followed by the broad shoulders and masked head of the man who'd saved her.

Realizing he was safe, she rapidly scrambled the rest of the way down the ladder so he could climb down as well. As soon as he was clear of he manhole, he slid the cover back into place, plunging them into darkness. Jemma froze as all-encompassing darkness surrounded her.

Sounds and smells she'd failed to notice before came into sharp focus. Skittering and faint clatter seemed to echo loudly through the dark tunnel, bringing to mind all sorts of creatures that might be crawling on her. It wasn't that Jemma disliked rodents; by contrast, she was quite familiar with them. But working with lab animals and working with wild animals were two radically different things, especially when she couldn't see them. At least they didn't appear to be in a sewer though. Wherever they were, it was warm but dry. That probably meant other utilities or one of the underground maintenance pathways.

Light flickered off the walls suddenly, nearly burning her eyes at it's sudden intrusion into the otherwise dark space.

"We need to keep moving," remarked the man (she really needed a name) as he moved up to stand next to her. His mask was still in place, but she could see the tension in his face. The dim light flickered off the shadows of his mask, made all the sharper by the limited and directional lighting. Her eyes flicked to the glowing stick in his hands then and her heart almost stopped. She knew that device; it was part of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s standard operations kit. The man who'd rescued her was S.H.I.E.L.D..

Almost immediately, some of the tension in her body relaxed. This man was with S.H.I.E.L.D.; he had to be one of Coulson's people. She was about 98% certain at this point that it was Hydra that had come after her. And Coulson had said they still had her back no matter what.

"Simmons." His voice calling her name startled her, even as a shiver of something remarkably _not_ related to fear slid down her spine. "We need to move."

"Right, of course," agreed Jemma automatically, trying to push that shiver from her mind. The adrenaline in her system was beginning to fade; it was a natural reaction. Especially given this man was clearly very fit. A fine specimen of male masculinity.

Then a horrifying thought crossed her mind: she didn't know who was beneath the mask. Which meant it could be anyone. Anyone could include Mack. Mack was the last person she wanted to see right now. The absolute _last_ person. But Mack would have identified himself; this had to be an agent she didn't know.

At least that was what she was going to tell herself, especially after her reaction to his voice before. Just the thought of Mack turned her stomach. The last time she'd seen the big man, well, he'd been in a _position_ she wasn't about to forget anytime soon.

A tug at her hand drew her focus back to the world around her. Which was when she realized they were moving again. He'd taken her hand again and was pulling her at a quick pace down the tunnels. Sirens wailed by above, the muffled sound echoing through the passage. Still, the man never faltered in his forward motion.

It felt like they'd been running through the dark tunnels for hours when the rumbling started. At first it was hard to distinguish from the traffic above; the rumbling was as muffled as the cars above. Then the shaking began. It wasn't just a little shaking either- the entire wall shook.

"What was that?" wondered Jemma aloud, eyes flying around the space in an attempt to understand what was going on. Her mind was muddled post-adrenaline rush and it was making playing the sound difficult at best.

"Subway," replied the man, his hand tightening a bit around hers as he stopped in front of a door. "We're about to head down onto the tracks. Stay close to the wall. The room we want is about thirty feet from where we're going to pop out."

"Onto the the tracks?" repeated Jemma with a bit of alarm. It was one thing to slink around in the dark in maintenance tunnels, but underground tracks were significantly more dangerous.

"There's a ledge, we'll walk on that," explained the man as he slid open the door in front of them and started down a narrow stairway. "I know it's a lot to ask, but trust me. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"Right," stated Jemma as she began following the man down the stairs. "Well can I at least get your name, then?"

"When we get to the safe house," replied the man simply, stopping again to open a second doorway and slipping carefully onto the ledge along the tracks.

Jemma gulped a bit as she came to the open doorway and peered down at the ledge. It was barely three feet wide and looked to be crumbling a bit in places. There wasn't a rail either, to make matters all the worse. So long as a train didn't come along, they'd likely be safe though. And she couldn't hear the sound of one at the moment. A gentle tug on her wrist prompted her to step carefully onto the ledge, her back flattening against the wall almost immediately. There was a bit more space than she'd thought- more like three and a half feet as opposed to three, but it didn't do much to reassure her concerning the safety of doing this.

Still, when the man began edging further along the ledge, she followed, fingers tightening around his every time her foot slipped just the slightest. It didn't appear to phase him though; he just continued walking the ledge as if this were something he did every day. Then again, with Hydra's ferocity, it might well be something he did every day.

True to his word, they hit another door a little more than thirty feet down the tunnel, one which he pulled open after a second and stepped through. Jemma was edging her way towards the door when a blaring horn echoed up the tracks less than a second before a light began rapidly filling the tunnel. She froze, uncertain what to do. Logically, she should jump through the doorway but her body refused to move.

Strong arms suddenly curled around her waist, pulling her through the door effortlessly and throwing it shut just as the train came barreling passed. The entire motion somehow ended with her pressed against a very nice torso as she attempted to catch her breath. Whoever her savior was, he had some amazing physical traits if the muscles she could feel beneath his shirt were any indication.

"You alright?" asked the man, his own chest rising and falling rapidly. At least she wasn't the only one shaken up by this encounter.

"Yes, fine," assured Jemma, her forehead resting against his shoulder. "Thank you for all of this. I really do appreciate it very much."

"We don't need to lose anyone else to Hydra," stated the man simply as he lead her through the room to a cot set up in the corner. His arms released her there as he stepped away, his focus turning to the door again.

"No, we don't," agreed Jemma as she gratefully dropped onto the cot. "Do I get to learn your name now? You're being awfully secretive for someone Director Coulson sent to keep an eye on me."

For a moment, the man froze, his fingers pressing to the metal of the door. Then his focus seemed to return because whatever he was doing, he went back to it. It wasn't until he was done doing whatever he was doing that his attention returned to her. "Coulson didn't send me." Before she could say anything, he pulled off his mask. "He wouldn't have."

No, Coulson wouldn't have sent him. It was the first thought that crossed Jemma's mind as she stared, speechless, at the man who had saved her. It was worse than Mack.

Ward's chocolate brown eyes watched her wearily from across the room, his hands playing with the mask still in his grasp. The man who had betrayed them all for Hydra, who had damaged Fitz to the point where the man could barely function, had just saved her life. He'd ruined her life; he'd ruined all of their lives. Worse, she'd followed him into a random underground room, away from everyone and everything else. He'd probably sent the agents who'd attacked after her. This was probably some sick way of him trying to force her to join Hydra again.

"Why." Jemma was barely aware of the words leaving her mouth, but she heard them clearly enough. The ensuing silence was enough to make even Coulson nervous.

Ward seemed to take a moment to consider her words before he dropped the mask into his bag. "Because you needed help and the team wasn't around."

"You tried to destroy us," stated Jemma, hands curling around the strap of her bag as the dire nature of the situation finally set it. Her hands inched slowly towards the flap, hoping to fish out her phone. She needed to call the others. They'd be able to find her; Skye could find anyone. "You threw Fitz and I out of a plane. We nearly drowned. Fitz was deprived of oxygen. His brain is permanently _damaged, _Ward."

"I know," stated Ward quietly, his eyes falling to the side as he turned back towards his bag. "Fitz- he told me."

"Fitz told..." Jemma voice trailed off as horror struck her. Fitz had spoken to Ward? When? How? He wasn't in any condition to speak to their former teammate! Oh, if Mack knew about this, she would do something horrible to the mechanic!

"He came down to my cell when no one else was around," explained Ward with a bit of a wince. "We had a...talk."

The way Ward said the word 'talk' immediately caught Jemma's attention. And sent a chill down her spine. "What do you mean you 'had a...talk'. That does not sound like a normal conversation."

Ward shifted uncomfortably, hands digging around in the bag. Jemma suspected it was simply for something to do, though. "Don't worry about it, Fitz is fine."

"Right," stated Jemma, her fingers brushing around inside her bag in a desperate search for her phone. "And clearly you are, as well."

"Despite Fitz's intentions, yes, I am," confirmed Ward. His hands moved to rest on either side of the bag, eyes still turned down towards the contents of the bag.

Jemma waited for him to continue, her fingers frantically scrapping against the bottom of her bag. When her nail caught on the edge of the elusive phone, she nearly cheered. That elation dissipated almost immediately as she drew the phone free though. Even if it weren't _half_ a phone, rather than the entire thing, she likely couldn't have made a call with the screen smashed as it was.

It took a lot for Jemma not to immediately begin hyperventilating. Her one chance to contact the team was in pieces on the bottom of her bag. She wasn't even completely sure how that had happened- it should have been a lot sturdier of a phone.

"I'm surprised you aren't with the team," remarked Ward, drawing Jemma's eyes up to the specialist. His back wasn't to her anymore, body leaning against the wall a little beside the cot. She thought about trying to hide the smashed remains of her phone from view, but gave up the idea in a second. He could see the fragments. "Never thought I'd see Jemma Simmons abandon ship."

"I had my reasons," stated Jemma simply, crossing her arms in what she hoped was a somewhat snooty look.

"Right," stated Ward with a shake of his head. "Who pissed you off this bad?"

"No one pissed me off," huffed Jemma, her eyes narrowing in Ward's direction. "I simply found I wasn't...needed anymore."

Ward snorted, shaking his head as he pushed away from the wall. The way his body moved, well, Jemma couldn't avoid looking. He disgusted her; he was a monster. He'd dropped her out of a plane, nearly killed Fitz, kidnapped Skye. He was a bad man. She needed to get away from him, before he decided to try to kill her.

"They'll always need you, Simmons," stated Ward, his eyes meeting hers with such a look of certainty, she knew he believed that with all his being. "You're a genius. There's no way they don't need you."

Jemma managed to keep the disbelieving noise in her throat at bay. He was clearly lying; otherwise Coulson wouldn't have let her go as easily as he did. It hurt a little to know he hadn't even tried to fight to keep her on. "They don't. Not as much as they need Fitz."

Ward fell silent for a long moment then; long enough that Jemma was certain he wasn't going to drop the matter. She wouldn't if she was him. She wouldn't stop until she admitted that catching Fitz and Mack in the...compromising position she had made it difficult to work with them. Particularly when Fitz told her it wasn't any of her business who he was sleeping with; when he accused her of abandoning him. It had been the last straw for her.

"Here." Her eyes refocused sharply on Ward at his words. One of his hands was raised, wiggling a phone slightly before he tossed it gently. Inexplicably, it landed perfectly on the cot beside her. "You should call the team. Skye is speed dial #1."

Jemma stared at the phone in surprise, her mind trying to catch up with what was happening. He wasn't asking why, didn't want the details. She's been expecting him to grill her, not offer her a way out.

The sound of shifting drew her eyes back to Ward. His focus was back on his duffel back, carefully moving things around and packing other things up. It looked like he was going to bolt soon, if she had to guess. A twinge of jealousy shifted through her. He was a man on the run, but he was strong enough to run away. She leaves the team and has to be rescued by their vagabond former-teammate.

"I can take you wherever you want to go, if you'd prefer," offered Ward, pulling her out of her thoughts. Which was when she realized she'd been staring at him. Particularly at his arse. What on Earth was wrong with her today? "Though, Hydra probably won't give up, even if you do move. They aren't those types of people." Righting himself, he turned around to partially face her with something gripped tightly in his hand. "Or..."

"Or?" asked Jemma, eyes narrowing suspiciously even as she scooped up the phone. She should just go back with the team, arm herself, and leave again. She could start over again. It would be a pain, but Skye could alter her identity. But some part of her wanted to hear the alternative. And the scientist in her always liked to know all of her options.

Ward paused for a second before taking a deep breath and slinging the bag onto his shoulder. Turning completely back to her, he extended his hand. A black mask hung from his fingers, identical to the one he'd been wearing when he rescued her from the alley. "Or you could come with me and we could start taking down Hydra ourselves."

Jemma glanced between Ward and the mask for a long moment, disbelief scrambling her thoughts.

He was offering to let her tag along, to keep fighting Hydra without the team. It was a ridiculous proposal. Even if she'd been feeling remarkably useless (what with knowing what was at stake right now and all of that but being unable to help), there was no way she would even contemplate joining _Ward_ of all people. She shouldn't. It didn't make sense.

Her fingers brushed the black cloth without much thought, curling around the edge and drawing it away from him. He relinquished the hood without resistance. "Why are you asking me along? What value could I possibly be of to you?"

"You're a genius," reminded Ward simply, shrugging just a bit. "And I don't speak science. Even if I took the data from the bases I hit, I couldn't begin to read or understand it. I need to know what they're working on to know who and where to hit."

"Which is where I come in," stated Jemma quietly, fingers brushing against the mask. "You want me to run the information. Tell you where to go."

"Tell me what's going on," confirmed Ward. His bag shifted a bit against his shoulders, the only sign he might be growing impatient. "Like I said, you can call the team and have them come pick you up. I'll even drop you off somewhere if you want. Wherever you want to go."

She wasn't sure why she uttered the quiet 'yes'. This man had tried to kill her; she shouldn't be agreeing to help him. But he was taking down Hydra just like she wanted to. Just like the team wanted to. He was on the same level as the team, even if he wasn't one of them anymore. And if Jemma was being honest, neither was she. They'd send her data on occasion for analysis, but she knew she couldn't go back. Not with Fitz and Mack screwing one another and giving her dirty looks. Not with everyone else in the base acting like she should be treated like glass (except Bobbi, but she seems to have her own issues).

Going backwards wasn't an option, but going forwards was.

Ward's hand gently covered her own, squeezing softly to draw her attention upwards. He offered her a tense smile before nodding towards the door. "We should get out of here. I don't think this place has been compromised, but I don't want to be caught down here, either."

"Right," agreed Jemma, eyes returning to the mask in her hands for a second before she shoved it into her bag for later. "Where are we heading?"


End file.
